


burn the length and breadth of sky

by Solanaceae



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Casual Murder, F/F, Femslash Friday, Rule 63, and i wrote this for school???, and then people die, don't look at me, i am a serious writer who writes serious fic, idk idk it's macbeth what did you expect, macbeth and lady macbeth as two college/acting company girlfriends, oh and everyone is genderbent except lady macbeth, so there's that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1888269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solanaceae/pseuds/Solanaceae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Generally, Lacy is of the opinion that girlfriends take care of each other. Thing is, that sort of thing doesn't usually include covering up murder. (But Beth is cute, so whatever.)</p><p>Or, accidental murder leads to premeditated murder and everyone is generally unhappy.</p><p>(Modern AU fem!Macbeth and Lady Macbeth as members of an acting company.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	burn the length and breadth of sky

"I have _never_ had a girlfriend as weird as you." Lacy kicked her heels against the brick wall she was sitting on, propping her elbows on her knees and narrowing her eyes at the dark-haired woman beside her. "I mean, I certainly haven't had _many_ girlfriends, but if I had, you'd still be, you know. The weirdest. Lucky for you, you're cute."

Beth fidgeted, tugging on a strand of her hair. "Lacy."

"Look, I get that you're jealous of what's-her-name, the theatre manager, but that's hardly an excuse to go to her house and––and _whatever_ , what'd you even do?"

"That's what I wanted––"

"You do realize how much that sounds like stalking, right?"

" _Lacy._ "

"What?"

"Can you––would you just _let me speak_?" 

Lacy rolled her eyes and mimed zipping her lips shut, then folded her hands and peered at her girlfriend, a paradigm of attentive listening.

Beth swallowed, winding her hair around her finger, over and over. "It's just. I didn't _only_ go to her house. She sorta––pissed me off. And I––didn't _mean_ to, but––"

"Beth." Lacy frowned, leaning forward a bit. "You didn't do something _stupid_ , did you?"

"I might've, um––yeah." Beth nodded jerkily, eyes fixed on a point somewhere above her girlfriend's head. "Might've hit her a little hard. With––with a garden spade. On the head."

 

======

 

 **Beth** : u there?

 **Lacy:** yeah. you ok?  
any police cars yet?

**Beth:** i'm ok.  
and no, no police.   
do you think theyre going to, you know  
…arrest me?

**Lacy:** not if they don't figure out it's you.  
good news is, you're the manager now? right?  
(that's how that works, right???)

**Beth:** well yeah but  
seriously, lacy  
if they did arrest me, do you think theyd go through my phone records?

**Lacy:** just don't go confessing to anything via text  
which is usually a good rule regardless of what you've done?  
but anyways, they could if they catch you  
…which, let me remind you, they aren't going to.

**Beth:** theres no way you can know that.

**Lacy:** we can make sure.

**Beth:** how?

**Lacy:** we can talk, tomorrow. your house. it won't be too hard.

**Beth:** promise?

**Lacy:** promise.  
no worries. what kind of girlfriend would i be if i let you get arrested? ;)

**Beth:** i love you, lacy.

**Lacy:** love you too.

 

======

 

They curled up on Beth's couch, Lacy with her arms around her girlfriend, Beth's head against Lacy's shoulder. The TV was on but muted, the bright colors streaking across the walls of the dim room. Outside, rain washed against the windows, running down the glass.

"So how come you took a gardening tool to Delia's head?" Lacy asked abruptly. Beth winced. "Because I'm sure you had a good reason."

"Yeah, well, I don't suppose you remember last week, when I told you what the director said?"

"That you could be Delia's assistant?"

"And–– _maybe_ , if she left, I could be manager instead." Beth lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, pressing closer to Lacy. "I just kinda wanted Delia _gone_. Or at the very least to stop being so––so over-controlling, y'know?"

Lacy nodded.

"So anyways," Beth continued, "I went to her house to talk to her about––theatre stuff, I guess? It's––I don't really remember." She paused, took a deep breath. "She said a few things. Stupid things. I––don't know what happened next. Except I woke up and she was bleeding, there was so much blood––"

"Did you at least hide the body well?"

Beth sat bolt upright, pulling away from her girlfriend. " _Lacy!_ "

"What?" She grinned, reaching out to tuck a strand of dark hair behind Beth's ear. "It's the most important question, really. What's done is done, and I'd rather you didn't go to jail." She brushed her lips against Beth's cheek, offering her a smile that was not reciprocated. "So. Did you?"

"I wasn't exactly _thinking straight_ , okay?"

"So you didn't."

"I shoved her down a hill in her backyard, into the creek––"

"That won't do."

"I was more than a _little_ upset at the time, I doubt you'd have done much better!" Beth's voice rose, breaking on the last syllable. "Stop acting like it's no big deal, Lacy!"

"It's a pretty big deal," Lacy agreed, a light dancing in her eyes that very clearly said it was not. "But we can fix this. I can fix it for you, with your help. Got it?"

"I don't––"

"Beth." Lacy took her face in both hands, pulling her close and looking her straight in the eye. All traces of teasing had fallen from her face; there was something sharp as steel about the way she spoke. " _I can fix this._ Just trust me, okay?"

Beth nodded, closed her eyes. Felt Lacy's lips brush hers, and tasted her cherry lip gloss mingled with something bright as fear.

She decided not to ask what Lacy had in mind.

 

======

 

The police investigator was a tall, dark-skinned woman with shoulder-length hair, kind brown eyes, and a yellow-paper notepad. She leaned across the table, pushing a flimsy plastic cup of water towards Lacy.

"Drink?" she offered.

Lacy smiled brightly and lifted the cup, taking a noisy sip. "Thanks."

"We're interviewing everyone who might have had contact with Delia during the past week or so," the policewoman said, clicking her pen. "I understand you're part of the theatre group?"

"Yep. Stage crew. I'm the one they have up on the high ladders, fixing the lighting and stuff." She smiled.

"And did you know Delia well?"

Lacy considered this for a moment, running her fingers along the edge of the empty cup. "Not well, but she was a few years older than me, anyways, and always at rehearsal––she was manager, you know?"

The policewoman nodded, noting something down in her notebook. Lacy risked a glanced at it, trying to read the loopy handwriting.

"Was she well-liked among the group?" the policewoman asked, and Lacy met her eyes, smiling.

"Oh, we all _loved_ Delia. She was such a––such a _leader,_ and––" She allowed her bottom lip to tremble, hand convulsively crushing the plastic cup with a sharp noise. "I don't know what we're going to do _now_ ––"

The policewoman produced a box of tissues from under her seat and slid it over to Lacy, who took one and dabbed at her eyes. "And can you think of anyone who might've had a grudge against her, someone who argued with her a lot, maybe?"

Lacy shook her head emphatically, crumpling the tissue in one hand. "No. No one at the theatre would've done something like this. I'm sure of it."

 

======

 

**Beth:** i think the police lady was suspicious  
she kept asking me things and i was really nervous  
do you think she knows?

**Lacy:** calm down. she can't know. she just wants to get to the bottom of this.  
she's probably bound by law to ask everyone questions or smth

**Beth:** she said she wanted a follow-up interview with me  
did she ask you for one?

**Lacy:** no

**Beth:** shit. i knew it. she knows.   
theres no other reason she would've asked me to talk to her again

**Lacy:** who else was she talking to? 

**Beth:** the director. she seemed really upset, and she knows all of us  
and she could tell them that i was supposed to be manager next   
and then that's a motive

**Lacy:** right. but if ms. banner couldn't tell the police anything  
problem gone.  
she's the only one who knew that you'd be manager next?

**Beth:** yeah  
lacy don't do anything stupid

**Lacy:** now, why would i ever do that? XD

 

**[Lacy M. has disconnected.]**

 

======

 

[from the Scottown Herald, 5.17.2014:]

**Local Theatre Director Found Dead Backstage**

Ms. Lora Banner, age 33, was found late last night dead of blood loss from multiple stab wounds in her chest, face, and arms. She was discovered by a janitor hired to clean the theatre, who says he "saw a funny lump under some curtains" and went to investigate, discovered the mutilated body, and immediately dialed 911. The murder weapon, a small prop knife, was found a few yards away near center stage still streaked with blood. The motive of the killer is as of now unclear, but the investigator in charge of the case, Officer Mara Duff, says that she will do everything in her power to discover the murderer behind this. The theatre was already the site of an ongoing investigation surrounding the death of twenty-eight year old Delia Rey.

 

======

 

Lacy opened her apartment door at half past eight, rubbing her eyes and swearing under her breath at whoever had decided to come lean on her doorbell at such an early hour––on a Saturday, no less. She opened her mouth, ready to snarl something offensive, and shut it with a snap when she realized who was standing there.

"This wasn't you, was it?" Beth thrust a scrap of newspaper into her face, hands trembling. Lacy plucked it from her hands, scanning it quickly. Her eyebrows rose briefly, then fell. She looked back up at Beth and smiled pleasantly.

"Come in for coffee? I just woke up."

"Lacy, please tell me this isn't––"

" _Coffee_ , Beth. Inside."

Her girlfriend took the hint and scurried in, kicking off her shoes as Lacy closed the door and slid the deadbolt home. The lights were still off, and Lacy's face was a pale smear in the dim light as she turned to Beth.

"This is from this morning's newspaper?"

Beth nodded. "Yeah."

Lacy made her way into the kitchen, flicking on the lights as she did so. The coffeepot was still half full; she sniffed the contents, made a face, and poured it down the drain.

"Anyone see you coming over?" she asked lightly, refilling the pot. Beth shook her head. 

"It was you, wasn't it?" she asked, sounding more tired than horrified.

Lacy shrugged.

"Prop knife and all?"

"I thought it was a nice touch."

"I liked Ms. Banner."

"So did I." She pressed a button on the coffee machine and turned to face Beth. "But I like you better." 

 

======

 

Lacy's cellphone rang later that night, blasting the annoying alarm-bell jangle she kept forgetting to reprogram. She pulled away from the computer, flexing her tired fingers as she reached for it.

"Hello?"

"Lacy."

"Beth. Something up?" She glanced at the clock––nearly one. Lacy could sleep in as late as she wanted (the joys of a graduate student working on her dissertation with only afternoon classes), but she knew Beth had the early shift at her job. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"I was." 

There was something about the strained quality in Beth's voice that made Lacy's eyes narrow in concern. "Something wake you up, sweetie?"

"Yeah. I––god, it sounds so childish… nightmare. I had a _nightmare_."

"Yeah?" Lacy lowered herself onto a kitchen stool, tapping her fingers against the countertop. She'd always felt more comfortable talking when she had something to do, and cordless phones were uniquely frustrating due there was nothing to twirl idly around her fingers. "What was it about?"

"About––" The sound of her swallowing nervously was audible over the line. "Do you think it's safe to talk over the phone, Lacy?"

"It's probably––" She started to say _safe_ , started to tell her that there was no way the police were already monitoring their conversations, and amended her statement halfway through. "It's probably safest to keep it vague, but go ahead."

"The director was there," Beth began, and Lacy felt an inexplicable chill run down her skin at the detached note in her voice. "She was at my table, eating breakfast cereal––Cheerios, I think, isn't it funny how the little details catch you? She looked up at me…"

When the silence grew uncomfortably long, Lacy cleared her throat and said, "Doesn't sound so bad." _Besides the fact that there was a murdered woman sitting at your breakfast table, eating your favorite cereal––yes,_ besides _that._

"There was a knife through her right eye," Beth said, voice perfectly clear, and Lacy froze. "The one with the silver handle that we used in _Julius Caesar_ last year. And blood in her hair, all dried up, so her curls stuck out when she moved, and blood on her hands and smears of it on my dining room table, on the spoon, on the _Cheerios box_ ––" Her voice fractured, a sob rising in her throat. "Lacy, have I gone crazy?"

Lacy could barely feel the phone in her suddenly numb fingers, though she was clutching it hard enough that the edges dug into her skin. There was no way Beth could have _known,_ the description of the knife hadn't even been in the newspaper––

"No, you're not crazy," she choked out, struggling to keep her voice level. "Just a normal stress reaction." There was a logical reason, she knew there was, but her mind couldn't seem to come up with an explanation for why Beth's subconscious had supplied the exact knife Lacy had used to stab Lora Banner to death with. "All you need to do is––is just remember it's going to be okay. No one's going to find out."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to come over?"

"That's okay." Surprisingly, Beth sounded a bit better, as though all she had needed was Lacy to tell her that she was mentally stable. If that was the case, Lacy was far from the right person to seek such comfort from.

She closed her eyes. "You sure? I could make you some tea, we could watch a movie or something…?"

"I have to get up in a few hours, but thanks." A pause, then: "Love you, Lacy."

"Love you too." She kept the phone to her ear long after the line went dead, listening to the static flow through space, a one-way connection to the empty side of the world.

_Fix this. For her._

 

======

 

Mara Duff died easily.

It was no hard thing to track down where she lived; there were only so many people in the town phonebook that Lacy still received once a year in the mail, thin yellow pages that smelled like her childhood. Then a crowbar from the landlord's closet, and a bike ride downtown. 

The policewoman had a son. Lacy's arm hovered over the crib, the iron crowbar still streaked dark with blood, and the blue-eyed boy reached up with tiny hands. She left him there, and did not close the door fully behind her. Perhaps a neighbor would notice, and someone would come in time.

In some corner of her mind, she knew that killing the investigator currently assigned this case would do nothing in the long run––that killing a member of the police force might bring down even more on their heads. But there were ways out of that, ways that she could work around the inevitability of the end––

_Because the story only ends one way, doesn't it?_

If one of them had to take the fall, she would rather it be her.

She tossed the crowbar into the bushes as she left Officer Duff's house, not bothering to wipe her fingerprints from it. When they found it, she would be gone, and Beth would be safe.

"Blame me," she whispered under her breath, fingers closing around an imaginary pen. There was paper at her house, and her father's old gun. _It was me,_ she would write. _It was me, and I am terribly sorry._

_Tell Beth that I love her._

 

======

 

**[Sent on Monday, May 19, 2014 at 8:30 PM]**

**Beth:** lacy?  
lacy, where are you?  
i keep trying to call you. why aren't you picking up the phone?

 

**[Sent on Monday, May 19, 2014 at 8:45 PM]**

**Beth:** lacy there's a police officer at my door. what do i do?  
he says he just wants to talk to me  
do i go out?  
where are you i really need you right now  
please?

 

**[Sent on Monday, May 19, 2014 at 8:48 PM]**

**Beth:** hes lying right  
he's lying your not  
you wouldnt  
lacy why wont you answer me ive called you seven times i need you to pick up  
he says you killed yourself lacy why would you do that  
you wouldn't so he's /lying/ i know he is  
lacy  
lacy where are you?

 

**[Sent on Monday, May 19, 2014 at 8:55 PM]**

**Beth:** i'm not going out  
im going to wait here. for you. as long as i have to.  
because you're coming back. i know you wouldn't do  
you /said/ you wouldnt do anything stupid, you /promised/ it'd be okay  
and i love you lacy  
so it being okay means you have to be here too  
i love you

**Author's Note:**

>  **Beth** \- Macbeth  
>  **Lacy** \- Lady Macbeth  
>  **Mara Duff** \- Macduff  
>  **Delia Rey** \- King Duncan  
>  **Lora Banner** \- Banquo


End file.
